


Sorry, Not Sorry

by ladylace616



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jon and Arya Reunite, Lone Wolf Massacre, Loss of Virginity, Manhandling, Porn With Plot, Reunions, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Season 8 Fix It, She Wolf - Freeform, The Enemy Beyond the Wall, The Night Before The Long Night, The Red Woman - Freeform, no regrets, the hound, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylace616/pseuds/ladylace616
Summary: AU. Canon-divergence with book flavoring. Set right before the Long Night. If this is Arya’s last night on earth, she doesn’t want to die a virgin. Whom will she enlist to help her with her merry task? (Beware Tags, Not Every Pairing Tagged to Maintain Mystery oolala~!)
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane/Arya Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	Sorry, Not Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> _TAGS: Sandor Clegane/Arya Stark, PWP, Loss of Virginity_
> 
> _Canon-divergence with book flavoring. Set right before the Long Night. If this is Arya’s last night on earth, she doesn’t want to die a virgin. Whom will she enlist to help her with her merry task? (Beware Tags, Not Every Pairing Tagged to Maintain Mystery oolala~!)_
> 
> _Disclaimer: I do not own the illustrious series Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. They are owned by David & Weiss and George RR Martin respectively. I gain nothing in posting this fic, except the validation I get from kudos & comments~! ^^ *hinthint*_
> 
> _P.S. Although this is book flavored, I did use TV-show age Arya so there wouldn't be any underage activity here. Also, Sansa is the Queen of the North and not Jon. He's just her envoy to treat with Queen Danaerys, and is now returning after their "successful" mission to parlay with Queen Cersei._
> 
> _Without further ado!_

Arya was waiting patiently for her brother and his Dragon Queen to arrive.

Sansa and Bran were waiting in the pavilion to greet the Dragon Queen, but she as usual could not be kept in one place. She was very interested to meet this Dragon Queen that Jon brought with him. She wanted to get a closer look sooner and easily slipped through the crowd.

Arya was bursting with poorly concealed excitement at the thought of seeing Jon again. Her heart had been gladdened when she heard he and his party were finally departing to return to Winterfell. When she first saw Jon, she felt a jolt of joy she had not known in years. She wanted to run through the crowd and fling herself into his arms the moment she saw him. 

Her training tempered her excitement, and she settled for looking over the faces of all the returning party. The Dragon Queen rode regally beside Jon, smiling down at the unsure faces of the common folk. There should have been more cheers for his return, but instead there was an uneasy silence that hovered over the crowd.

Everyone was cowering in fear for what they had heard; Queen Danaerys was bringing dragons with her. Would they all be burned to a crisp-

Arya didn’t have time to worry about it. 

She heard the roar of the dragon before she saw the shadows darkening their land. The huge beasts swept overhead harmlessly, and Queen Danaerys looked up at her children with mirth in her violet eyes.

Arya decided she liked her immediately. Anyone that had dragons was someone she should want to befriend, perhaps ride their dragon some day. She was amazed by the sight of the dragons. She knew that she would never forget this day, seeing live dragons again in this world.

At that moment, she knew that Sansa had followed the only course of action, to ally with the Dragon Queen. They were meeting today to iron out their path forward in the battle against the Others beyond the Wall.

Arya wasn’t expecting to see Gendry and Clegane riding along behind them. 

When she first saw Gendry, older with stubble on his chin and a war axe slung over his shoulder, she smiled from ear to ear. He looked like a proper Knight.

When she found the Hound’s ugly face next, it was quite an unpleasant shock. At first, dismay washed over her at the sight of him and then for a confused second she felt an immense relief that he wasn’t really dead. As if that was not what she really wanted when she walked away from him that day.

*~*~*

It didn’t take Arya long to find a moment alone with Jon.

He was silent, standing in front of the weir tree when Arya approached. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” she softly said.

Jon turned. Arya’s face lit up with excitement at the sight of him. This man was so much different than the brother she loved in another life.  He left a smooth faced boy out to prove himself, and this man in front of her was a tried and tested Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

Jon was stunned. After so many prophecies and false attempts to bring her to him, here she was,  _ finally. _ In the flesh. 

“How did you sneak up on me?” he dumbly asked.

“I’ve gotten pretty crafty,” she said. She smiled like the naughty kid sister he loved to indulge. A fierce gladness seized him at seeing her whole and in one piece. They were together again. He wouldn’t let them be parted again.

Then Jon was running towards her. 

She ran to meet him in the middle and launched herself into his arms. He crushed her in an embrace, twirling her around and actually laughing for joy.  Jon hugged her tightly to himself. With his arms around her, Arya felt safe and loved for the first time in years. 

It was different than being reunited with Sansa and Bran. She and Jon had always been the closest, besides Jon and Robb. She was not the same sister he left behind; but his feelings hadn’t changed. His joy in seeing her after so many years could not be more complete.

When he sat her down, he quickly caught her face between his two hands and then quickly leaned down and kissed each of her flushed cheeks.

“Did you miss me?” he breathlessly asked. 

“Only everyday,” she barely whispered. 

Snowflakes melted on her dark hair, and the quiet look of satisfaction on her face as they stood there together spurned him on. 

“I dreamt of you. I have missed you more than anyone else in my life,” he confessed to her. His voice was low and throaty, choked with emotion. 

Arya could feel tears burning at his confession. “I tried not to think of everyone, Jon. It was too hard to do what I had to do. But I could never forget you,” she said. She gestured at Needle down at her side. 

“You still have it!” Jon exclaimed. The smile on his face faltered though at his next question. “Did you have to use it?”

“Some,” Arya oversimplified her answer with a nonchalant shrug.

“When no one found you, they thought you were dead, Arya,” he said with clear pain in his voice. “We thought you and Bran and Rickon were all lost, and now look at us,” he said. Arya was sad that she couldn’t remember her youngest brother’s face any more, and he had already been committed to the crypt when she arrived.

“I’ve been trying to retrieve you from beyond the wall for the longest time, I want you to know that. There was a Red Witch who claimed to see visions of you in the fire, coming to me at the Wall,” he said.

“I tried to, Jon. The ships weren’t going that way. I went east, to Bravos,” she explained to him.

“I should have known,” Jon said with a rueful smile. It was so like his little sister to defy all the odds and travel across the Narrow Sea on her own. 

“How did you escape? Who helped you?”

“It was a man of the Night’s Watch, Yoren,” she explained. She told him about her time spent traveling with the other boys and men meant for the Wall, and how she’d finally been separated from them. She told about her time posing as a cupbearer for Roose Bolton, and he applauded her for her tenacity and helping the Northern captives to escape with her Weasel soup.

“I worried you were dead, but I had faith in you, you know,” Jon said. “You were always too wild, running about. No one could catch you if you didn’t want them to,” he said to her.

Arya smiled wanly. “I wish that were true,” she replied. “I had my share of close calls. What matters is that the Starks are together again,” she said. “What’s left of us,” she sadly added on.

“I had revenge for Robb,” Arya confessed to Jon. “I arranged a feast for all the Frey men, and poisoned every last one of them. Their house won’t be a problem any longer,” she said and a chill went up Jon’s spine. 

But even as he mourned his sister’s innocence, he was glad that the bastards had got their comeuppance. 

“So that was you?” he asked, mischief in his tone. 

Arya squared her shoulders and looked at him. “I told them Winter came for House Frey. The North Remembers.”

“They ought to call that particular event The Lone Wolf Massacre, in that case,” he toothily replied. “How did you manage the feast, though?”

“I’ll show you, if you come to my room,” she readily offered. 

There was an eagerness to her voice that excited him- he knew Arya was up to her old games, doing things behind people’s backs and thinking herself clever. Jon couldn’t resist the way her eyes lit up, so he said yes and they walked away from the God’s wood back towards the castle.

They reached her chambers and locked the door behind them. Jon was struck speechless when she handed him Walder Frey’s dead face.

“I was always afraid to come back here; to let people know what a murderer I’ve become. I’m quite good at it. I’ve done what I must to survive, Jon, and I don’t regret it. You were the only person I never dreaded seeing again. I somehow knew you’d always love me no matter what, no matter how I’d changed.”

Jon looked pained as he listened to her story. 

  
  


“You know I do,” he simply replied.

  
  


Arya rested easy at that, and breathed a sigh of relief to finally be home.

  
  


*~*~*

The next person she sought out was Gendry, and she knew that he would be in the forge. She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised to find the Hound there as well, but she somehow was.

At first, she lingered in the shadows watching the pair. Gendry was as handsome as ever. “It isn’t easy making a blade that big with dragon glass,” he said. He gestured at the great axe in Clegane’s hands. 

The Hound’s gruesomeness was unchanged as well. He spoke in a voice that was gruff and unpleasant as its owner. “You’re saying you’re good, is that it?”

“I’m just saying it’s a tricky material-”

“You know who makes weapons for the wildlings?” Clegane interrupted him. Neither of them noticed Arya. “Cripples and cocksuckers. Which one are you?” he japed.

It was typical of him to glower over other people. Arya rolled her eyes, and decided to speak up.

“Leave him be,” Arya said.   
  


That caught their attention. Clegane turned to look at her, and Gendry’s face nearly split in two at the sight of her. Arya didn’t flash him a smile in return like she wanted to, she was too busy staring down the Hound. Gendry did not venture a hello as he sensed the air thicken with tension between the other two.

The Hound stared back at her. She was still just a whisp of a girl who had grown barely taller. Somehow, though, the way she stood with spine erect and hands behind her back like a proper Lord spoke volumes of her self confidence and deadliness. 

Her eyes were dark and deep; he knew when he was looking into a killer’s eyes. She was different, and yet the same. She still did not possess any womanly curves to speak of, but her face had lost some of it’s rounded baby fat. 

She did not smile. She looked quite serious and severe, and would have unnerved many a man.

Despite himself, Clegane was intrigued.   
  


Although he went by Clegane now, he would always be the Hound to her. The Hound who wouldn’t help her save her mother- who’d knocked her in the head and carried her away from all the blood slaughter. He’d seen her at her weakest, and she needed to show him she knew how to intimidate people right back now. She was strong now. She wasn’t powerless any longer and everyone was going to know that about her if it was the last thing she did.

“I heard you were here,” he groused. He did not miss that he was the first to speak, and she noticed, as well.

“The North is my home,” she replied simply. “What’s surprising to me is that  _ you’re _ here. I thought you said you didn’t care for my brother,” she said, eyes narrowed calculatingly at him.

“People change, can’t they? I’ve seen the error of my ways,” he jested in poor humor, snarling sarcastically. “Me, of all people, joined up with a bunch of fire worshippers,” Sandor darkly chuckled.

“Fire worshippers? You mean Beric and Thoros?” 

“Aye, the same,” he said. “We went on a journey north of the wall with your precious brother,” he spat.

In the past, the Arya he had known might have angrily taken a swipe at him or otherwise made some quick retort to his jab. This silent little killer instead looked him coolly in the face. A slightly amused quirk of her lip was the only tell that she even heard what he said.

Gendry looked worriedly between Arya and Clegane. He spoke up on both of their behalf. “Err, yeah,” he rapidly spoke up. “Jon, us, and a small hunting party went beyond the wall to fetch a wight.”

“I heard that you were successful, and that Cersei will be sending troops to assist us,” Arya said skeptically. It didn’t sound very like the Queen Cersei Arya had known. She did not trust the plan, and neither did Sansa.

It turned out Clegane was no fool either. He laughed bitterly. “That cunt will count herself lucky that those bastards got to us first. She isn’t sending any fucking help,” Clegane said. “It will just be us, count on it,” he said with a grim air of finality.

He looked between Arya and the smith. “Think I’ll help myself to a drink at that,” he said, and he left them standing there. When he’d gone, Arya finally smiled at Gendry.

“That was a nice axe you made him,” she complimented him. “You’ve gotten better.” 

Gendry smiled back, and Arya’s heart ached inside her chest. She was all too aware of the way his shirt plastered to his muscular stature. 

“Thanks! So have you,” he enthusiastically replied, then realized what he’d said. “I mean, you look good,” he awkwardly tried to recover. 

She wondered how hard his abs and chest would be if she got to run her hands over them. The thought momentarily flipped her stomach and she struggled to hide a bashful grin in his direction. 

“Thanks. So do you,” she replied.

For one brief moment, Gendry looked confused but then he caught on. His eyebrows arched in interest, but he turned his back on her and went to examine some of the other weapons he’d recently finished. He fiddled with them for something to do and fished for something to say to his old friend.

“I see why you always wanted me to come here. It’s not a bad place to grow up if it wasn’t so damn cold,” he remarked.

Arya didn’t miss a beat. She walked closer to him to study the weapons as well. “Stay close to that forge then,” she quipped.

“Is that a command, Lady Stark?”

“Don’t call me that,” came her automatic reply.

“As you wish, my lady,” he said to her, smiling yet again. Arya’s serious face from before crumbled, and suddenly she was her old self again. A young girl, smiling at a boy she liked. It was just like old times between them. She felt comfortable enough to approach him about her original intentions seeking him out.

“This is my wish,” she said, and she produced a drawing from the folds of her clothes. Gendry took the drawing from her to examine it. “Can you make it?”

“What do you need this for?”

“Can you make it or not?” she asked.

Gendry frowned at her, then gave her a once over. “You’ve already got a sword,” he said. His eyes caught on the valyrian blade at her waist. “What’s that?” he gestured towards it.

Arya pulled the knife from its scabbard. She handed it to the black smith for him to study. Upon examining it, Gendry gave a hum of appreciation.

“It’s Valyrian steel! I always knew you were just another rich girl,” he said to her with a sly grin.

Arya smirked at him and took the knife back. She sheathed it again. “You don’t know any other rich girls,” she said. She glanced casually back at him over her shoulder as she walked away.

Gendry definitely caught that look.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Gendry did not have much opportunity to catch up with Arya the following days. He worked tirelessly in pursuit of his objective. He would have liked to spend time with his loved ones, but his responsibility was a huge one. He had to make sure they had enough weapons to fight a tireless enemy for the fate of humanity.

Jon and Queen Danaerys had given the warning that the Others would be here by the dawn. Gendry finished crafting Arya’s custom made weapon and went to find her. 

He found her practicing her archery.

She looked formidable as always. Her aim was incredible. He watched her for a moment before he approached, admiring her form.

“You always were such a spitfire. It doesn’t surprise me you’re so good at handling these things,” he said. He held out her weapon towards her, and Arya turned around to face him finally. They were standing in the stables with a fire burning low, making her look extremely lovely in the warm but dim lighting. She lowered her bow and placed it on one of the stable ledges nearby.

She took the weapon from him and turned it in her hands, testing the weight. She made a graceful pose with the weapon, practicing. Gendry’s eyes lit up appreciatively, and Arya didn’t miss his wandering eyes. She continued to practice with the weapon as they talked.

“When I left, the Brotherhood had sold you to the Red Woman. Why are you working with them again?” she asked. “They were on my list, you know. For selling you to her,” she added. “She was on my list, too. I hated them for doing that.”

“List? What list?” Gendry asked. He felt touched by her concern for him, and a twinge guilty.

“The list of people I’m going to kill,” she answered. The smile she gave him didn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve already killed a couple of them, although I didn’t get the pleasure to kill Joffrey. That would have been sweet,” she commented.

Gendry stared at her queerly. At his look, Arya’s eyes narrowed and she stared hard at his grimy face. He was black from the soot at the forge, but even covered in dirt and glistening in sweat he looked tempting to her. Unfairly so. 

She felt emboldened.

“What did the red woman want from you?” she asked.

“She wanted my blood. For some kind of blood magic,” he sourly spat.

Arya frowned, confused. “Why your blood?”

Gendry pursed his lips unsurely, and took a hurried look at the ground. He knew he was not guilty of hiding anything from her since he did not technically know, but he still felt bad about his ignorance in the matter. 

“I’m Robert Baratheon’s bastard. She said I had “King’s Blood.””

Arya stopped twirling her weapon mid air, her mouth hanging open in shock. 

“I didn’t know until she told me,” Gendry said, raising his hands defensively at her shocked expression. “She tied me up, stripped me down, and put leeches all over me,” he explained.

Arya regained her composure. 

“Was that your first time?”

“Yeah, no, I’d never had leeches put all over my cock before.”

“Your first time with a woman,” Arya impatiently interrupted.

“What? I didn’t- I wasn’t  _ with _ her,” Gendry protested delicately.

“Well, who was your first? Did you get to pick? Was she your first choice?” she nosily asked him.

Gendry scoffed, uncomfortable with her line of questioning. Embarrassed, he was stricken with silence. At her quirked eyebrow, he rolled his eyes at her and finally sighed. 

“Her name was Anara, a camp whore,” he admitted. 

“How many others did you have?” she asked. 

“How many? Just one? Two? Twelve?” she needled him.

Arya quietly placed the weapon by the bow and slowly advanced towards Gendry as she questioned him. It did not escape his notice that she was quickly closing the gap between them.

“I didn’t keep count,” he answered, watching her slow and womanly advance and the sway of her hips. He felt like she was a wolf coming to devour him, and he didn’t know how close he was to the truth at the time.

Arya smirked knowingly at him. ”Yes, you did.”

“Three!” Gendry suddenly blurted. “Willow’s the last, she’s my wife now,” he said. He quickly explained about his wife before Arya could tempt him further. She was already playing mind games he was regretful he couldn’t indulge in.

This new knowledge was like a bucket of ice water over her head. Arya was flabbergasted for the first time in what felt like ages. Things had felt so natural between them, just like old times! And all this time, flirting with her, he never mentioned that he had a wife!

“You’d like her, Willow. We ran the orphanage at the Inn of the Kneeling Man. She’s great with kids, we’ve got one. A babe,” he rapidly told Arya. “Cedric, a boy.”

How the conversation had turned from her possibly losing her virginity to him talking about his damn baby, she would never know. 

Arya was unsettled. She still wanted. He did not seem willing to break his vows, him and his damn baby. 

Arya left Gendry in a sour mood. While she was indignant that her plan was ruined, she was also heart sore. 

She had once wanted to be Gendry’s family, and now that right belonged to another woman. Another woman warmed his bed at nights, and they had a little boy to boot.

Arya felt wistful for something she would never have. She didn’t intend to marry the blacksmith, but it did rankle her that she would never have been able to provide him children. In Bravos when she suffered her wounds by the waif, she was advised she may not be able to have children as a result. It had seemed stupid and insignificant at the time, but being back in Westeros made her wonder when she never had before.

She contemplated what she might be missing out on as her feet carried her away from the blacksmith. 

She still wanted- there would be no slinking back to her room with tail between her legs. She still didn’t want to die a virgin. 

She decided to seek out the only other male at Winterfell she could trust with such a task; a grizzled man from her past that she had once left for dead. 

Would he be glad to see her when he learned the reason for her visit? Would he welcome her, after all?

She would never know if she didn’t try.

  
  


*~*~*

  
  


She found him on top of one of the perimeter walls, huddled down on the ground with a skin of wine beside him. Of course, the damn world was coming to an end, so he was drinking. 

Drinking was one of the things he did best. That and fighting. Could he fuck as well as he could fight? Something told her he could. She was excited despite herself.

She couldn’t sit down. She wasn’t nervous, per se. But a little uncertain. She decided to test the waters and stretched her hand out for the skin of wine.

He handed her the skin without protest. Arya took a swig from the skin, then handed it back to him. She was quiet as she looked out over the top of the wall. 

Clegane looked up at her as they drank in silence. This woman was bolder than the girl he’d known. She was the same murderous little wolf girl, only different, too. She boasted about becoming a great killer, and he saw now that her dreams had been realized in spades. He didn’t know if he should be glad for her, but he was glad for whatever trials and tribulations she had survived to stay alive.

“You never used to shut up,” he finally commented. “Now, you’re like a mute?”

“I guess I’ve changed,” she said, echoing his earlier words to her.

Clegane laughed mirthlessly. “Like hell! You’re still the same little killer you always were. You know, I was sore about that. About you not gifting me with mercy,” he sourly said to her. “You left me there to die.”

“First I robbed you,” she unapologetically replied. “Dead men need no silver,” she quoted him again. She swiped the wine skin back from him and took another chug. He grabbed it back when she lowered it again. 

“Are you really going to hold a grudge? You obviously made it,” she said, giving him the once over. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn of the wine.

“I did die,” Clegane quietly said to her. “I washed up on the Quiet Isles, and a Priest took me in. Elder Brother put me to work digging graves. Honest work for a dishonest man, to atone for my sins,” Clegane said.

“Seven Hells,” Arya said. “You really have been to Hell and back, haven’t you?” she asked him. She sat closer to him and leaned her shoulder against him. 

Clegane just looked down at her curiously, didn’t move as he passed the wine skin back to her again. He was starting to warm up to sharing.

“I guess so,” he said.

“Is that why you’re up here then? To atone for your past sins?”

Clegane grunted, averting his eyes. “I reckon so,” he mumbled.

“The Hound, mankind’s last hope. We better fucking pray,” she said with a small laugh. 

“To think,” she said, “It’s the end of the world tomorrow, and here I am worried about dying a virgin. I tried to have sex with Gendry,” she admitted.

Clegane quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“The Blacksmith? What in the hell for?”

“We might all die tomorrow. I want to know what it’s like before that.”

“What do you mean ‘tried’?”

“It turns out he’s married,” Arya glumly replied.

“Doesn’t mean his cock doesn’t work,” Clegane groused.

“He has a baby with her! He wouldn’t do that,” she protested.

“I stand by what I said.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re the only other man I trust to touch me,” she said. She invaded his personal space, climbing into his lap as he sat there stupidly on the ground. 

He looked up at her, wondering if he’d drunk more than he thought. He couldn’t possibly be hearing her right.

“To pleasure me,” she said. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in cospiritionally. She whispered to him. “Would you like that? I’ve never been with another, you would be the first,” she told him.

Clegane was gobsmacked. He hardly knew what to do. Arya reached down and plucked the forgotten skin of wine he was carrying off the ground. She took a liberal swig that left a sexy drop dribbling down her lip. Before he knew it, Clegane leaned forward to kiss her and catch it.

He was drunk or she was crazy, or probably it was both. Either way, he didn’t question it further when his lips crashed against hers. Theirs was a hungry and devouring kiss. The roughness of his kiss was all the more appealing to Arya, who was accustomed to violence. They were animal like in their passion as Arya bit his bottom lip and Clegane snarled angrily. 

He tugged on the back of her hair dangerously, dragging her mouth away and seeking out her neck. He kissed the skin there and made her squirm in his lap until he groaned loudly and pleasurably.

He broke away from the kiss.

“Why would you want an old dog like me?” he asked, his voice ragged with emotion. They were both panting from their passionate embrace when Arya breathlessly replied, 

“You fought for me, didn’t you?”

She was tired of talking.

She dragged Clegane down to the empty forge. There was a bed of hay in the corner that they decided to make use of. It was a fun kind of revenge to say fuck you and fuck in Gendry’s main space. 

Clegane picked Arya up again, loving the feel of her clinging to him with her legs wrapped around him. She was a lustful little beast, that was for sure. It was enough to get Clegane painfully hard, knowing what a wildcat she was. She probably would be in bed, too.

Clegane wasn’t disappointed. Arya thrashed under him, her nails digging into his back as he fucked her. She was loud, besides. He had to keep shushing her with his big meaty hand over her mouth, but she didn’t seem to care. 

Her eyes would roll up into the back of her head and she would curse when he hit a particularly good spot. Clegane reached between them to messily tweak and rub at her clit and Arya came with a violent shudder.

Clegane pumped through her squelching pussy sounds, madly chasing his own release. Arya leaned forward and sucked his nipple into her mouth as she’d seen whores do in Bravos. 

Clegane barely had time to pull out before he was busting his load all over Arya’s dark thatch of curls and lower belly. Arya lay limply on her back. He heaved a great sigh and collapsed onto his back beside her on the bed of hay. 

Arya instinctively cuddled to him, resting her head against his hairy chest. She could hear the thundering of his heart as he started to calm. She heard the rumble of his breath as he started to doze, and Arya mistakenly closed her eyes when she started to feel drowsy also.

“What the hell!”

They woke with a start. Gendry was standing at the entrance of the forge, looking incredibly pissed. It was still dark outside, so who knew how long they’d dozed?

“You’ve got a whole bloody castle to fuck off in, and you chose my bed?!”

“Well, I was going to wind up here one way or another,” Arya cheekily said to him. She covered her body with Clegane’s massive shirt as he stirred.

“Your loss,” Clegane said, standing to find his pants and put them back on. He wasn’t ashamed of his actions or nudity, not even a little bit. 

If he and the she-wolf were destined to die that day, he would do so with no regrets and the firm knowledge that his she-wolf had claws and wasn’t afraid to use them.

Maybe they would both survive this yet.


End file.
